You Don't Know What You've Got
by niblettk
Summary: Kurt isn't dead. He just doesn't know it yet.
1. Chapter 1

Dislaimer: I don't own _Glee_, _The Invisible_, or "Big Yellow Taxi."

* * *

_Before [Wednesday, 5:06 p.m.]_

Kurt doesn't understand what happened.

He figures he should, but for the life of him he can't remember who attacked him, who shoved him in the trunk of this car, whose voices he can hear over the rumble of the engine.

It won't matter in a few moments. In a few moments, they'll pop the trunk. They'll drag him from the car and beat him–with pipes, bats, and even a metal chain–until they're sure he's dead, and then they'll leave him. In a few moments, they'll abandon his body in a secluded field, and the last thing Kurt will know is that there's a tree in a field of fog.

He won't know if the fog is real or just in his mind, but it'll be there. In a few moments, they'll leave him sitting against the base of that tree, but they'll make sure he's on the side that doesn't face the road, and it will make it impossible for anybody to see him unless they get out and come looking.

_

* * *

_

[Wednesday, 9:23 p.m.]

Kurt doesn't understand what happened.

One minute, he was walking home. Next minute, he's lying flat on the side of the road.

He stands, brushing the filth off of his clothes and stretching his arms; sleeping on asphalt is not good for your muscles. The sun is bright, but lower in the sky than he expected.

He starts home, rubbing his arms to work the shivers out of them, but he seems to be permanently cold.

_How did I wind up on the side of the road? _Kurt thinks. _Why would I deem it appropriate to fall asleep there?_

He turns into his own neighbourhood and stops in his tracks. Red and blue lights flash around him, illuminating the street in a swirl of fluorescence and sunset, and he breaks into a run. Because the two police cars are pulled up to his house, one parked diagonally in the driveway and the other in front of his house.

Nobody is outside except some neighbours, and none of them look at him. _Please, dad, be okay._

He steps through the open door and stops in his tracks again. His dad is fine, but he looks a little shaken up.

"What happened?"

Nobody even looks up, and Kurt steps closer. Carole is sitting on the couch next to Burt, rubbing his back in smooth, measured strokes, and Finn sits in the armchair, rocking himself slowly back and forth.

"Dad?" His dad keeps crying, and a police officer comes through the doorway leading to the kitchen, "Finn?"

Again, nobody answers. Finn doesn't even look up. Burt does though, but not at Kurt. He stares blankly at the police officer, "Did you find anything?"

The officer shakes his head grimly, "I'm sorry, sir. If, in twenty-four hours, your son still hasn't turned up, we'll put out a missing person's report."

_What? _Kurt stares blankly at his dad, "I'm here, dad."

Burt stands, moving in front of Kurt and blocking his view of the officer momentarily. Carole goes with him, keeping a hand on his arm to restrain him. "My kid doesn't do shit like this. He comes home, and if he doesn't, he fucking calls me!"

"I'm sorry, sir," the officer explains, nodding to their partner as they come down the stairs, "There's nothing I can do. It's our policy to wait twenty-four hours."

"Fuck your policy," his dad says, but he's stopped yelling. He sinks back to the couch and Carole guides the policemen out of the house. "Fuck."

Kurt sits on the couch next to him, trying to touch him, but even when his hand is resting on his dad's shoulder, the fabric doesn't move; his dad feels nothing. Kurt stands up again, staring at the couch and daring there not to be an indent where he'd been sitting.

Nothing. The couch is flat, unchanged.

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 5:43 a.m.]

Kurt curls beside Burt while he sleeps, on the side that Carole isn't, but Kurt doesn't sleep; he cries, he punches things, but he can't get tired. He wears himself out, panting and exhausted, but he can't fall asleep.

So he watches his dad lay in bed, crying sporadically and getting very little sleep, until Carole shakes him awake and asks if he wants something to eat.

Burt follows Carole down the stairs, and Kurt stays as close as he can, almost pressed against his dad's side. Finn is sitting at the table, staring blankly at the table; it hurts, because Kurt didn't realize how much Finn would be affected if he… if he died.

_I'm dead._ Kurt sits at his own chair, which isn't pulled out, but his torso sinks through the table; he wonders faintly if he can walk through walls, but his mind is dominated by it: _I'm dead. I'm dead._

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 12:42 p.m.]

Finn doesn't go to school.

Kurt watches the three of them mope around the house; his dad chews his nails and Kurt tries to swat his hand away, wincing when his fingers drift uselessly through his dad's arm.

_It's too hard_, he thinks, so he sits on the curb outside and waits. He waits until he knows he can't watch his dad fall apart, and then walks to school.

He wants to see Mercedes. He's starting to realize that's he's dead, and maybe this is just giving him the opportunity to say goodbye. He wants to see his friends before this weird state of being stops and he truly leaves this world.

He sees her, trailing through the hallway behind Tina and Artie; Quinn is holding her hand, and he realizes that they all know he's missing.

He falls into step beside Mercedes and winds up following them into the choir room, sitting in front of her and desperately trying to meet her gaze, look into her eyes one last time.

"Why's everyone so bummed?" Puck's voice cuts through his mind.

Quinn sniffles quietly, "Kurt's missing, Puck."

"What are–You're joking, right?" Kurt is offended; Puck doesn't sound shocked, he sounds like he thinks they're all crazy. _I'm gone. They have every right to be upset. _He turns around, and Puck is staring right at him. Kurt's eyes widen in his skull.

"You can see me!" Kurt shrieks, just as Puck says, "He's right fucking there, dudes."

Puck says, "What?" at the same time as everybody else does, and Kurt stumbles forward, dropping off the first ledge to the floor and standing in front of Puck.

"They can't see me, Puck."

"What?" Puck repeats, faint, and everybody else stares at him, mixed stares of confused, horrified, or just offended. "I need to–I've gotta go."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	2. Chapter 2

_[Thursday, 1:26 p.m.]_

Puck managed to run faster than Kurt could, but he finds him anyway. Puck is sitting on the bleachers, his head in his hands, mumbling to himself.

"I can't believe_ you_, of all people, can see me."

Puck looks up, glaring, and just stares at him, silent.

Kurt stares back.

"What the fuck, dude?" Puck stands up, pacing across the bench he's on, and Kurt watches him, "What happened to you?"

Kurt blinks.

"Hummel, what–"

"I don't know," he breathes, "I don't know how I died."

"This means you're _dead_! How the fuck is this fair, Hummel?" Puck tries to shove him, and his hands go through Kurt's shoulders, "Fuck!"

"Fair!" Kurt repeats, loud and shrill. He follows Puck up the bleachers, "This isn't fair for _you_! I'm dead, Puck."

"Shit, I know, Hummel," he sits down, running a hand over the stripe of new Mohawk, "Why the fuck you haunting _me_ for?"

"I'm not haunting–I didn't choose this!" Kurt can feel his voice cracking, can feel the rush of tears, "Why does it have to be you?"

He sits down heavily on the bench, hoping that Puck will just leave him alone, but he hears the thud of Puck on the bench next to him. "Sorry, dude."

Kurt brings his hands up to press his face into his hand, and Puck tries to put his arm around him awkwardly. His arm goes right through Kurt and he nearly falls forward. Kurt lets out a pathetic laugh and then starts crying: loud, gasping sobs.

He hasn't cried, not when he woke up on the side of the road or when he walked into the house to see his dad freaking out, but he's crying now.

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 4:30 p.m.]

"Stop fucking following me, Hummel."

"I need to know where you live," Kurt says, examining his nails and wishing he could change his clothes. Puck is hunkered down against the cold, walking stiffly, and Kurt is trying to pretend he can't feel it too. _Why can I still feel cold? _He isn't entirely sure that this is how the whole "being dead" thing is supposed to work.

"You're not haunting me." Puck stops on the sidewalk and Kurt doesn't stop in time. He stumbles through Puck, who swears and shivers, "Don't do that!"

Kurt stares blankly at him, "You can feel it?"

"Well, no," Puck rubs his eyes, "It just creeps me out, dude." He sighs and starts walking again, "It's not fucking fair that everybody else still has hope and I have to listen to you whining about being dead." Kurt figures that Puck is saying that he wishes Kurt weren't dead, in his own roundabout way. Neither of them talk for a while, and then Puck adds, "Stop following me around."

"No can do," Kurt chirps; he's been trying to pretend he's okay with this, even though all he wants to do is break down and cry, "You're the only one I can talk to and not feel completely certifiable. Therefore, I need to know where you live so I can stalk you when I get sick of following my dad."

Puck stops, turning into a walkway, "Fine. This is where I live. Go the fuck home, freak."

Kurt winces, but he doesn't follow him up.

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 6:31 p.m.]

Burt sets four places, even though the police have now put out a missing person's report and have apparently found Kurt's cell phone on the sidewalk a few blocks away.

Carole lets out this tiny little sigh and puts a hand on his arm, "Burt, sweetie, we only need three plates..."

Finn looks up, staring at Kurt's plate, and then Burt swears.

His dad moves back to the table and pulls the place mat off the table, throwing the whole mess of dishes and utensils. The plate and a fork fly through Kurt, and the plate and glass shatter against the floor.

"Burt!"

Kurt flees.

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 7:18 p.m.]

"Fuck." Puck tosses the video game controller down, and the word "Pause" floats up and down on the screen.

"I'm sorry," Kurt pleads, "My dad set four plates and then started throwing things. I couldn't–I don't want to see it."

Puck stares at him.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

_

* * *

_

[Thursday, 11:33 p.m.]

"Can you stop crying for like, five seconds?"

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 6:04 a.m.]

Puck rolls out of bed and steps right in Kurt's chest. The other boy doesn't move, just stares unblinkingly at the ceiling. Puck swears.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" he wonders aloud, and then wanders into the bathroom, stripping as he goes.

In the shower, he lets the water run cold near the end, soothing his headache and letting him think, just for a moment, that Kurt might not be there when he gets out.

But he is, sitting cross-legged on Puck's bed and staring straight ahead.

"Don't watch me change, pervert."

Kurt starts to scoff, and then crosses his arms, "Why not?"

Immediately, Puck threatens, "I'll kick your fucking ass, that's why not."

Kurt deflates, "You can't." He almost seems disappointed, "I'm dead."

Puck changes with his back to Kurt, and when he turns around he lets out an involuntary sigh, "Fuck, don't cry again."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 8:47 a.m.]

"Mr. Puckerman, you're late."

Puck ducks his head and ignores the fact that Kurt's already sitting on his desk, looking relatively composed. "I know, I'm sorry. Slept in."

He didn't, and Kurt smiles apologetically at him. He spent an hour trying to calm Kurt down, because apparently he still hadn't accepted his own death.

"I'm sorry I kept you from school," Kurt teases, "I know how important it is to you."

"Fuck you," Puck spits. The boy next to him tenses, obviously assuming Puck is just throwing his threatening voice around.

"I'm going to go follow Mercedes for a while. See how she's coping." Kurt says, pushing himself off the desk with a prim sweep of confidence that he doesn't feel.

"You do that."

The boy next to him moves his desk about an inch further away.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 9:16 a.m.]

"I don't want to go to school, mom."

Kurt has to walk the block and a half to Mercedes house when he realizes she isn't at school.

"You have to get up, sweetie. Kurt will turn up."

Mercedes lays flat on her stomach with her face pressed into her pillow, and she shakes her head feebly, "I don't want to."

Her mom sighs, "Alright. I'll call you in." Kurt watches painfully as her mom leaves and closes the door softly behind her. Mercedes waits until the footsteps are in the kitchen before rolling over, onto her side.

She draws her arms around herself and whispers, quietly, "Where are you, Kurt?"

He starts crying at the same time she does, "I'm right here, 'Cedes."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 9:28 a.m.]

"You have to help me find my body."

"Fuck off," Puck hisses, trying to push him off his desk without looking like he's trying to push an invisible person off his desk.

"No." Kurt crosses his right leg over his left, pressing his palm to his knee impatiently, "You have to help me."

"If I fucking help you, will you get off my test?"

Kurt blinks and slides off the desk.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 10:01 a.m.]

Puck walks briskly through the hall, obviously trying to lose Kurt in the crowd, but Kurt just drifts through people and lockers.

"Why the fuck do you want to find your body?" Puck mumbles, "That's fucking sick, dude."

"Everybody needs closure!" Kurt yells. Puck looks around as if Kurt's embarrassing him, but nobody else looks at him, "I'm dead, and if I'm just missing nobody can move on."

"You're fucking crazy, Hummel."

"You're the one talking to yourself," Kurt fires back, nonplussed.

"Do you even know where your body is?"

Kurt falters, "No... But maybe that's why I'm still here." Puck turns away, opening his locker, "Maybe if you find my body, I'll go away."

Puck lifts an eyebrow, looking intrigued. Kurt tries to pretend that doesn't hurt, that is doesn't twist something in his gut when he realizes that Puck is only going to help him if it means he won't be here anymore.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 11:20 a.m.]

Kurt taps his foot impatiently on the floor, standing in the back of Mr. Schue's second period Spanish class.

Puck turns around in his seat, "Would you fucking stop that?"

The kid behind him looks terrified, squeaking "Stop what?"

Puck glares at Kurt behind him, and Kurt grins at him, "Nothing. Never mind."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 11:36 a.m.]

"Just get up and go, Puck. Mr. Schue won't care," Kurt whispers, leaning down too close to his face.

"Get away from me," Puck hisses.

"You have to go look, Puck. Since when did you start making an effort in class, anyway?"

"Look, Hummel, you may be dead, but I'm not. Good grades might not be important to a walking corpse, but this is kind of my ticket out of here."

"I'm a ghost," Kurt straightens up, smoothing his hands over his jacket–the same one he was wearing on Wednesday, "I look nothing like a corpse."

Puck doesn't reply, but Kurt stops bugging him.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 12:10 p.m.]

Puck nearly sits down at the jock table, but he winds up following Kurt to the usual Gleek table and sitting next to Quinn. Finn, Rachel, and Mercedes are all absent.

Tina looks like she probably should be staying home too.

"Did they find his body yet?"

"Puck!" Kurt scolds, and everybody else looks at Puck like he's the scum of the earth, "They still have hope, asshole."

Puck shrugs, "Sorry, just being realistic."

Quinn shrugs off his shoulder and leaves the table.

"Smooth, Puck."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 12:54 p.m.]

Puck takes off while Kurt is watching Artie mutter something to Tina, and it takes him nearly the rest of the lunch hour to find him again.

He's sitting in his car, and Kurt hops into the seat, sliding through the wall of the car door without so much as a wave of greeting.

"Why'd you take off?"

"It sucks, dude. Everybody thinks you're going to come back, like some guy is going to find you and bring you home, like you're not lying somewhere, dead, because some asshole beat you up or ran you over and then hid your fucking body like a coward."

Kurt stays silent throughout Puck's rant, and the other boy slams his fist into the middle of his steering wheel, causing a loud honk to sound in the empty parking lot.

The bell to signal the end of lunch goes, and Puck turns the car on. "Let's go find your body."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	3. Chapter 3

_[Friday, 3:40 p.m.]_

"You don't remember _anything_?"

Kurt sighs, staring out the car window as Puck pulls up in front of his own house, "No. I was walking home, and then I was lying on the sidewalk and nobody could see me anymore."

"Well, how the fuck am I supposed to find your body?"

"I don't know."

Kurt slips out the side of the car as Puck opens his door and steps out.

"Go home, Hummel. Be with your dad."

Kurt watches Puck walk up the steps to his house for the second time.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 4:12 p.m.]

Burt is sleeping when Kurt gets home.

Kurt watches him until he feels like a creep, and then goes downstairs to sit beside Finn and Rachel on the couch. Finn cries a little, which surprises him, but mostly they just sit and watch the television.

Every time the phone rings, Carole picks it up in the other room, but it's never the police. It's never news.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 5:56 p.m.]

Kurt is sitting at the top of the stairs, where he's able to listen to both his dad's snores and the soft sounds of whatever Carole and Finn and Rachel do. There's a quiet knock at the door, and Carole darts out of the kitchen, past Kurt's line of sight.

The door makes a weird swoosh of sound as Carole pulls it open, and the exhale that follows means that it's just a friend who can't deal, who needs Finn or Rachel.

"Hey," Puck's voice makes Kurt smile, "I... Uh–Hey."

"I'm up here, Puck," Kurt calls, and Puck moves closer into the room, taking a seat on the couch so he can see Kurt at the top of the stairs.

They stare at each other for a long time before Puck clears his throat and says, "This sucks."

Rachel sniffles, and Kurt smiles thinly, trying to stop the sudden rush of tears.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 7:02 p.m.]

Puck wanders, drifting into the kitchen and talking to Carole for a while.

Kurt follows.

"Do you think I could go into his room?" Puck asks, and Carole hesitates.

"I don't know about that, Noah."

Puck starts promising that he's not going to touch anything, he just wants to see. Kurt watches Carole watch Puck, wondering if she'll give in.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 7:12 p.m.]

"I honestly cannot believe she allowed you down here."

Puck shrugs, flipping through a stack of papers on Kurt's desk. Kurt is sitting on his bed; nothing has been touched, nothing is out of place. He doesn't even think anybody has been down here.

"Why are you here?"

Puck doesn't show any outward signs of his emotions, but Kurt watches for anything that might tell him what is going on in Puck's head.

"I don't think we should keep looking for your body," Puck says, turning towards him and leaning back against the desk. Kurt quirks an eyebrow. "I mean, if it means you'll be gone for real, I just don't think it's a good idea. Plus," he adds hastily, "I might get in shit for just randomly finding your body."

Kurt smiles. "You'll miss me."

"I didn't fucking say that."

Kurt keeps smiling anyway.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 7:21 p.m.]

"Let's get shit-faced."

"I can't get shit-faced. I'm dead, remember?"

"Well, I need to get shit-faced. So come watch me get shit-faced."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 8:40 p.m.]

They sit on the hood of Puck's truck while he drinks.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Puck takes a sip, "I don't know. Do we have to talk about this?"

Kurt stares at the sun, which is still setting, "What's wrong with talking about this?"

"Talking about my future when you don't have one anymore. It's just, not cool."

"I didn't think about it that way," Kurt says quietly.

"Sorry."

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 9:17 p.m.]

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," Kurt laughs. He nearly tries to slap Puck's arm, but he remembers before he makes the movement and ruins the mood.

"No, seriously," Puck sits up from where he's been laying back against the windshield of his truck, turning to Kurt seriously, "Anthony Hopkins didn't blink–not once–while he played Hannibal. I watched the movie six times when I found that out, just to be sure."

"That's insane."

"That's dedication, dude."

"From who, you or Anthony Hopkins?"

Puck laughs, snorting around the bottle he's just lifted to his lips.

_

* * *

_

[Friday, 11:47 p.m.]

"I'm not supposed to start liking you after you're dead."

Puck's words are slurred, and Kurt smiles, keeping his mouth shut. He wouldn't be getting this if Puck wasn't drunk.

"Seriously, you're one cool dude."

"Well, thank you."

"Why are you dead?"

Kurt just starts singing the chorus of _Big Yellow Taxi_ under his breath, which makes Puck laugh again, "Seriously. Stop being awesome."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 12:58 a.m.]

"Where are my keys?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why the fuck not!"

"You're drunk, and only one of us needs to be dead."

"Fuck, Hummel."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 4:09 a.m.]

Puck parked on some secluded road, and Kurt gets off the truck at around two and just walks, wandering beside a long wooden fence.

_It should be getting easier. _

It's not, though. He's starting to enjoy Puck's company, and he doesn't want to be dead. He didn't before, but now he's thinking about his future.

It's not fair that he's dead. He deserves more out of life.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 5: 32 a.m.]

He wanders home, after he checks that Puck isn't drowning in his own vomit or something–not that it matters. If Puck has alcohol poisoning, Kurt has no way of getting help for him anyways.

He hates feeling helpless.

He can't do anything at home, either. Finn isn't home, but Kurt doesn't care.

He's here for his dad.

"Three days, Carole. What if–what if somebody took him?"

"Nobody took him, Burt."

"Then where is he?" He looks so devastated, like he just doesn't understand how Kurt isn't there, and Kurt has to run away again, because Carole doesn't have an answer. Neither does Kurt.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 8:49 a.m.]

He went to visit Mercedes, but that went about as well as stopping by his house, so he runs again.

Puck sits up on the hood of the car, looking around, when Kurt is still a good ways down the road. Puck spots him and waves once, quickly, before sliding off the hood of the car.

Kurt thinks Puck might throw up, but he just gets in the car and drives towards Kurt, who grins and sticks his thumb out like a hitchhiker.

Puck flips him off as he stops.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 10:12 a.m.]

Kurt sits across from Puck in the diner, watching him shovel food into his mouth longingly.

"I miss food."

"I can see that," Puck says, pouring copious amounts of syrup on his waffles, "Can you stop drooling, it's disturbing."

Kurt swipes a hand across his mouth, embarrassed, but he has a feeling Puck was kidding about the drool.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt ponders, "But I basically want to swallow that whole."

"That's what she said."

Puck laughs, even as Kurt sputters indignantly.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 10:30 a.m.]

"It's weird to see you wearing the same clothes more than one day."

Kurt groans, throwing a hand over his eyes, "I've tried to focus all my energy into changing my clothes, but no can do. If I'm still here a year from now, I'll be out of style, and then I might actually want to be dead."

"I keep forgetting that you're dead."

"Sorry," Kurt smiles, strained, "I try not to forget. It hurts more if I think I'm okay and then realize I'm not ever going to be okay again."

Puck doesn't say anything, and he turns the radio up until Big Yellow Taxi comes on. Kurt laughs, but Puck doesn't seem to think it's funny anymore.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:03 a.m.]

Puck drives, silent for a while, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting firmly on the shoulder of Kurt's seat. He has a feeling that if he were solid, if they could touch, Puck's hand would be on _his _shoulder.

"I meant what I said last night, you know."

Kurt turns his head; he wants to rest it against the headrest, but he'd just go through it, so he doesn't.

"You're cooler than I thought," Puck turns to look at him, taking his eyes off the road, "It sucks that you had to–"

"Puck!" Kurt shouts, throwing his hands in front of his face instinctively, but there's no way to stop in time.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:05 a.m.]

"Puck!" Puck stumbles out of the car, laughing, and Kurt sags with relief, already standing on Puck's side of the car, "Oh, thank god you're okay."

"Shit," Puck leans over, clapping his hands over his knees, "That thing came out of nowhere."

He breathes heavily, bending so far over his head is almost between his legs, and then Kurt breathes out quietly, "You killed it."

Puck straightens up, looking at the legs of the deer. "Nah, he's still kicking." The animal had jumped in front of the car; it's lucky that everything just goes through Kurt, because the deer has sliced through the car, taking off most of the passenger side and leaving Puck's side unscathed.

"That's just a reflex. Look–"

Puck looks: Kurt is reaching out to pat the head of a deer. The markings on its back are identical to the markings that adorn the body sticking out of his truck.

The deer nudges Kurt's hand once, and Puck sees the final twitch of the one he's hit in his peripheral vision. In the same instant, the ghost version of it vanishes.

Kurt lets out this little whimper, staring at the dead deer.

Puck doesn't get it until Kurt turns to him, eyes wide and terrified.

"I'm alive."

* * *

_Reviews are love._


	4. Chapter 4

[Saturday, 11:11 a.m.]

"You have to think, Kurt!"

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:13 a.m.]

Kurt is now sitting on the curb, eyes closed, and he's repeating to himself, "What happened?" over and over.

Puck calls Santana, and she picks up on the second ring.

"I need your help."

"I don't care how blue your–"

"San, this isn't about sex. Just–Can you come get me?"

Santana doesn't say anything for a moment, and then she swears, "Fuck. Fine, I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"

He looks around, trying to spot a street sign.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:16 a.m.]

"Santana is coming to get us."

Kurt opens his eyes, staring up at Puck from where he's sitting on the curb, "It's why I can't sleep." Puck rolls his eyes to the side, trying to figure out what that means, "It's because I _am_ asleep. Or at least unconscious."

"Stop it, Hummel," Puck kicks a rock through him, "You need to figure out where the fuck you are!"

"I'm trying!" Kurt shouts, and then Puck freaks out.

Because Kurt is just suddenly gone.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:17 a.m.]

Kurt takes a gasping breath and opens his eyes. It takes a great deal of effort because he's suddenly in so much pain he can't even think clearly, but he realizes he's back in his body.

He can't open his left eye; his right arm is on fire, and the bone in his shin is obviously broken.

It hurts, but he manages to tilt his head and catches sight of low hanging branches. It sparks an image in his mind, a memory so vivid it consumes his vision.

"Puck," he gurgles, and then his eyes slip closed again.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:21 a.m.]

Kurt materializes right in the middle of Santana's tiny car, and he's just tall enough that his head is outside and he can see Puck.

The other boy is pounding his fists against the back cab of his truck, screaming profanities.

Santana stands a few feet away, shouting and obviously feeling helpless, "For fuck's sake, Puck, it's just a fucking deer!"

"Puck!" Kurt screams, and Puck turns toward him.

"You're okay!"

Santana shrieks, "_What!_" at the same time as Kurt says, "I woke up for a minute."

"Fuck, you scared me."

Kurt smiles briefly.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?"

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:30 a.m.]

"I should take _you_ to a hospital."

Puck thinks they took too long explaining why Puck was talking to thin air, but he nods sarcastically anyway, "Come on. If we don't find him, you can tell everyone I'm crazy and they'll lock me up."

"You've been seeing Hummel since Tuesday, and you're only now trying to find him?"

"We thought he was dead–Look, can I explain this later, when Kurt isn't–Where did you say you were, Kurt?"

"That's so weird."

"I don't know!" Puck is turned around in the front seat and Kurt sits in the back, "All I remember besides where I'm sitting is that from the road, I could see a big tree, just sitting all alone in the middle of a field."

Puck rattles the words off to Santana, and she glances in the rear-view mirror even though she can't see him.

"I know that tree."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:42 a.m.]

Kurt is sprinting across the field before Santana even slows down, and he's pretty sure Puck gets out before she stops.

When he turns the corner, he gasps, putting a hand over his mouth and backing away.

Puck round the corner, panting.

"Shit, Kurt."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:44 a.m.]

"I don't want to jar him..." Puck moves around Kurt's body, awkwardly trying to find an angle to pick him up from.

"Maybe we should call 9-11."

"Puck, please... Don't let me die."

"Shut up, Hummel. San, I'm going to pick him up, okay?"

"Don't drop him."

"Oh, god, Puck."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11:47 a.m.]

"You're gonna be okay, Kurt."

Kurt just keeps crying, turned around in the front of Santana's car to watch his body, because he's wasted three days stalking his dad and goofing around with Puck.

"You'll be okay."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 11: 52 a.m.]

Kurt wakes up again once, while they're driving. It's the scariest minute of Puck's life, because Kurt gurgles and cries in his arms, and the only thing he can make out is "It hurts."

When Kurt's ghost reappears, Puck can't bring himself to look away from the real Kurt, the half-dead boy in his arms.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 12:03 p.m.]

It takes far too long to get to the hospital.

They take Kurt from Puck's arms the moment he steps inside the emergency doors, and Kurt can't help thinking how small his body looks, how hideous his face looks with those huge purple bruises around his eyes.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 12:16 p.m.]

Puck tells Santana everything.

She holds his hands and tells him he's nuts, but he assures her that when Kurt wakes up, he'll tell her exactly what happened.

"Well, it's unlikely that I'll tell her _everything_, but I'm sure I'll be able to support your story."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 12:24 p.m.]

Kurt wanders into the emergency room and hurries back out, white-faced.

He sits down next to Puck, "That's a lot of blood, Puck."

"Shut up," he hisses. Santana looks up, but seems to realize he's not talking to her, "You'll be fine."

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 12:35 p.m.]

About thirty seconds before Burt Hummel crashes through the doors, Kurt vanishes.

Puck stares at the seat that Kurt had been in, vaguely aware that he's crying and Kurt's dad is actually hugging him, _thanking_ him.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 4:57 p.m.]

"Burt Hummel?"

That's it. Puck should have ran, should have got out of here before they told Kurt's dad.

Puck watches him stand, and he's thankful that the two men don't go far enough away that he can't hear them, because when Burt Hummel collapses against the doctor, sobbing, Puck would've continued to think the worst.

But he hears it, the quiet and almost awestruck, "Your kid's a fighter."

Puck grins at the floor while Santana squeezes his hand.

_

* * *

_

[Saturday, 5:12 p.m.]

His injuries are so extensive that they've put him in a coma so it doesn't hurt while he heals.

Nobody can tell Puck how long it'll be.

_

* * *

_

[Two Weeks Later. Sunday, 11:00 a.m.]

Puck comes into the hospital room with a bagel for himself and a coffee for Mr. Hummel, who hasn't questioned his almost daily visits, and sits down.

"They're not inducing the coma anymore," Burt takes the lid off the cup and blows across the top of the liquid. Puck watches the ripples. "They think he'll wake up sometime in the next few days."

Puck glances over at Kurt, whose face is still swollen with bruising. Black stitches stand out at the edge of his hairline and the neck brace pushes the skin under his chin up awkwardly, and Puck smiles.

"Can I stay until he does?"

Mr. Hummel smiles into his coffee cup.

_

* * *

_

[Monday, 4:22 a.m.]

Kurt stays blissfully medicated, unaware that Puck keeps a permanent vigil next to his hospital bed, until Monday morning, when he opens one eye very slowly.

"Nurse!" Burt calls, and both Puck and Finn jolt out of sleep. Burt moves closer and Puck stays at the end of the bed, not willing to intrude on Mr. Hummel's relief, "Hey, kiddo. How you feeling?"

"'m good," Kurt slurs, "Medicine's good."

Burt laughs, brushing Kurt's hair out of his eyes, and then Finn is squeezing his hand even as the nurse bustles in, checking his vitals and telling them he's just fine.

_

* * *

_

[Monday, 11:37 a.m.]

Kurt waits until Puck is the only one in the room before he starts singing _Big Yellow Taxi_, very softly and not-wonderfully, if you ask Puck, but it doesn't matter.

Puck just joins in, trying not to cry.

_Don't it always seem to go_

_That you don't know what you got till it's gone?_

_Reviews are love._


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